


The Librarius Concession

by doodlegirll, Mixxy



Series: For empires [1]
Category: Welcome to Night Vale
Genre: Alternate Universe - Medieval, Alternate Universe - Royalty, Banging their way to diplomacy, First Time, M/M, Prince!Carlos, Prince!Cecil, Royalty
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-22
Updated: 2014-06-22
Packaged: 2018-02-05 19:34:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 15,299
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1829719
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/doodlegirll/pseuds/doodlegirll, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mixxy/pseuds/Mixxy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Everyone knows that the kingdoms of Noctis and Vail have been bitter rivals as long as memory goes back. Likewise, everyone knows that it will end with the clash of young princes Cecil and Carlos.</p><p>Everyone knows that it will end in passion and heat, in hearts racing and blood pounding, in claiming and surrender.</p><p>However, most people assumed it would be on the battlefield, not in each other's arms.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Librarius Concession

Carlos swirled the wine in his goblet, questioning his decision to take more. He'd never had much of a taste for it, even if it did put a pleasant fuzziness in his limbs and sometimes, rarely, take his mind off what was expected of him for a moment. He hated these coronations. Hated the simpering court girls, trying to win his favor. Hated the politically savvy duchesses with their eyes like knives. Hated the fact that his father would leave him to "socialize"- more like forge allies. He was twenty, yet he felt too young for all of this.

Across the room, another prince was also unsettled. It was not as if Cecil was unused to these kinds of things, per se; no, indeed, he was fairly well schooled in the art of socialization, and, of course, conversation and etiquette. His mother had absolutely insisted upon it, always reminding him that to be capable in the fields of such matters would only aid him in his rein one day, once he had found a good woman to settle down with and produced an heir. But Cecil was not ready to do such a thing. At nineteen, he hardly felt ready for any such rituals, especially since most of the more suitable women his mother tried to force upon his company were rather…flighty, never able to speak of their own accord, or carry an intelligent conversation for more than five minutes at a time before they fell into sweeping moments of frill and fancy.

The young prince took a generous swig of the wine from the cup he had procured, allowing the bitterness to burn the back of his throat as he gulped it down. Alcohol certainly did not do anything to lessen the torment of these coronations, but it certainly did help the time to go by faster.

Carlos decided that it didn't matter anyway, and drank the rest of what was in his goblet, signaling to the help for more. If it didn't quite take him away, at least it provided a distraction. He didn't- oh. Oh dear. Across the room he could spy the Countess Mirabella, a vapid young thing with the determination of a foxhound. Partially due, Carlos suspected, to his own father's words to hers. His father had hinted on more than one occasion that the joining for their territories would do them well against the neighboring bastards in Noctis, but Carlos didn't even want to share a meal with her, much less a marriage. She was scanning the ballroom, and he quickly ducked away, out of a side door, where the hall was empty and the noises from the party filtered, muffled, through the wood. He sighed, leaning against the door, and wondered if this was how his life was to be from now on.

Cecil had just started in on his second goblet of wine when he saw her. The Countess Mirabella of Coronis, with her long, pointed nose and high cheekbones, and piercing blue eyes that Cecil had, on more than one occasion, been unfortunate enough to have trained on him. She seemed to be looking about the ballroom, perhaps for her next contestant in the game of cat and mouse she so often entertained, and Cecil hastily set down his goblet on the nearest table and quickly wove his way into the crowd, out of Mirabella's seemingly all-knowing line of vision. He very quickly set his eyes on the door at the back of the room, nearest the large painting of a vase of flowers that looked as though they had not been watered in decades, and grabbed the handle, slipping through the narrow gap and into the hallway outside. He closed the door behind him and leant his forehead against the wood, breathing a sigh of relief as he did so as his heart pounded against his ribcage.

Carlos had just resigned himself to a long night of hiding in the hallway, entertaining himself with his own thoughts, when the door opened next to him. A young man- about his age, he'd guess- slipped through the crack with catlike grace, resting his head against the wood afterward and looking like he'd just avoided execution. Carlos waited, but the man didn't appear to see him, and maybe it was the drudgery of too many tedious social engagements, or the alcohol humming in his veins, but he couldn't stop himself from- looking. Just looking. The man was- well, he was- beautiful. And with that thought, he snapped back into himself, flushing a bit at his own mind. He cleared his throat politely, still not moving from his position against the door. "Pardon, but- ah, shall I leave?"

Cecil jumped as a voice - a voice like oak and caramel and honey, he noted - resonated behind him, and he whirled around to face his would-be assailant, prepared to defend himself by stating that he was looking for the nearest place to relieve himself, or, perhaps, that he was lost, but he stopped short. While he had been expecting perhaps a guard, or a servicemaid, he found, instead, another young man, about his age or so, with beautiful brown skin and dark hair that framed his face in flowing waves that reminded Cecil very much of the wind over the still waters of the lake nearest his uncle's summer cottage in the mountains. He was dressed sharply, with a formal waistcoat and jacket in a dark shade of green, with a plain red sash tied at his waist. Cecil's voice caught in his throat as he opened his mouth to speak, to answer the man before him, but he found himself, quite uncharacteristically, at a loss for words.

"Er, no," he managed finally. "That's quite alright. I am, ah, looking for the nearest lavatory?"

"Oh," Carlos said, caught off-guard as the man spoke. His voice was like…velvet, smooth and dark and it curled around him, making heat rise in his chest. In combination with his striking blue eyes- like the crystal-clear waters of the sea by one of their fortresses- it was breathtaking. He thought that if he was too look deep enough, perhaps he'd find just as much depth and mystery, blue upon blue, endless and- "Right," he said abruptly. "The lavatory. I- It should be-" He raised a hand to gesture, then was suddenly struck by the absurdity of the whole situation. He chuckled, raking a hand through his unruly hair. "I'm not familiar with this place. I couldn't tell my way through here if the Holy Grail was at the other end."

Cecil felt his heart do a peculiar flip in his chest, a strange, but pleasant, warmth begin to emanate from it, outwards towards the tips of his fingers and toes, alighting his already fuzzy mind ablaze. He raised a hand to smooth back his blond hair as his cheeks began to burn with embarrassment.

"Oh. O-of course," he stammered. "I...wouldn't know either, honestly. Perhaps if I wandered around long enough I would find it, or, perhaps, find myself completely and utterly lost within the void of this palace and its lingering shadows, left alone to live out the remainder of my days contemplating the existential properties of stone walls and doors that lead only to further despair."

He cursed himself, silently, as the words slipped from his mouth. His mother was always warning him about his ramblings, and their tendency to stray towards the enigmatic. "It confuses people, Cecil dear." She would say. "And imagine saying such things to a young lady of repute! You'd scare her off before you could even ask for her name, let alone her hand!"

"My apologies," he quickly said. "I often find myself rambling after a round of wine to loosen the tongue. It is an awful habit."

That same velvet in the man's voice made Carlos shiver, just a little, pleasantly. The talk of the void and the shadows would have unnerved him in polite company, but here, in the dark of the hallway, coming from this man's lips, wine making everything soft and fuzzy, it didn't bother him. Rather, he let the voice, the story, roll over him like a wave.

"No, no," he said, surprising himself with much he wanted to hear more. Normally he dreaded this socialization, this rote routine. But he actually…was drawn, somehow, and it made him almost a little worried. "I…I don't mind. So what would you do, lost in this place forever? Would you live on the volumes in the library, drink words instead of water?"

His gaze snapped back to the floor, embarrassed. He wasn't supposed to give in to flights of fancy. His father had drummed that out of him at a young age. He was a prince, and he couldn't concern himself with trivialities. No matter how enticing this man made them sound, with his velvet-dark voice and his strawberry-wine lips.

Trying to break himself away from thought of if those lips would taste like wine as well, he stuck out a hand. "I'm-" here he faltered. He had been ready to give his full title, full name, like he always did, but…he was so tired of this game. Of watching everyone's opinions of him change as soon as they heard "prince". For just this once, he wanted…something else. "I'm Carlos," he said finally.

 _Carlos._ Even his name, at the tip of Cecil's tongue, made the young prince feel inexplicably warm, and somehow, magnetically drawn towards this mysterious, dark young man before him. Cecil grinned as Carlos ducked his head, pink creeping onto the smooth, dark complexion of his cheeks.

"Perhaps." Cecil answered. "Words can, indeed, provide a sustenance that natural necessities cannot. Perhaps the library would be a fine place to spend out the rest of one's days. A pillow of poetry and a blanket of fairy tales does not sound as if it would be the worst way to live."

Carlos’ head snapped up, and Cecil saw, for the first time, that his eyes were a fetching shade of brown, almost amber, in the low light of the hallway. He saw the young man's expression change from that of confusion to surprise to excitement in the span of less than ten seconds, and he could not help but feel that perhaps Carlos had been told throughout his life that he was not supposed to share what it was that passed through his mind.

Cecil held out his hand, and smiled.

"I'm..." He faltered, his mouth going to form the word "prince" as it was so used to doing, but he could not find the will to make his tongue say it, not with the alcohol slowly giving it a mind of its very own. "Cecil. I'm Cecil."

The smile on Cecil's face spoke volumes, sent a shock of bravery through Carlos- he may have given in to foolishness, but Cecil was right there along with him, and at this very moment, Carlos wouldn't think of another place he wanted to be. "Cecil," he tried it out, feeling the way it rolled in his mouth. He wanted to say it often, he decided.

Cecil seemed to have found his way out of being bashful, and Carlos never had been one to be left behind. "A pillow of poetry," he repeated, tilting his head back against the door, not out of shame, just basking in the words, watching Cecil with half-hooded eyes. "You have a silver tongue, Cecil. I suppose many have told you before." He watched the other man's face carefully, looking for a sign that he'd overstepped the rules of their game, that Cecil would flee- but he found none. Cecil seemed to feel the same pull to him as he did to Cecil.

"A few." Cecil agreed, blinking languidly at Carlos for a moment, as he placed his hands behind his back. "My mother often tells me that my quick tongue and tendency for babble will be my downfall one day."

Carlos nodded, slowly. "Ah, but have they truly ever stopped to listen to you?" He dared.

Cecil worried his bottom lip between his teeth for a moment before he answered. "Actually," he admitted, somewhat timidly. "I do not know for certain that anyone ever has." He dared a glance at Carlos’ face, searching for any indication that the other man was uncomfortable, or only skirting with conversation to make way for the ballroom beyond the door that Cecil pressed his back against. Surely Carlos would be popular there, with his -oh, so this is what people meant when they said the word "hypnotic" when referring to a person, wasn't it?- handsome face and voice like a summer night. "In all honesty," he ventured further, when he found Carlos looking back at him, almost expectedly, "I believe you to be the first person to actually listen, and appreciate, what I have to say of my own will."

It was then that Carlos grinned, and Cecil felt his heart twist and flip once more, and the warm, fuzzy feeling that he had been cultivating since he first laid eyes on the other man suddenly became like an all-consuming fire within his heart and soul, and Cecil knew, despite the wine flowing through his veins and the fact that he had never experienced before in his life, that this is what was meant by falling in love instantly.

Carlos had been about to say that perhaps others should have listened more, because his voice was like honey, and his words were like fine wine, when Cecil suddenly looked stricken. Like he was about to swoon, or be taken in a fit. He waited for a moment, but Cecil just kept staring, and as much as he liked those sea-blue eyes focused on him, he was beginning to worry.

"Cecil, are you alright? Are you ill?" Concerned, he reached forward, hand pressing against Cecil's face, meaning to check for a fever or catch him if he fainted. But there was no fever, and upon making contact with Cecil's cheek, the thoughts of medicine flew entirely from Carlos' mind. His skin was so smooth under his hand, and he wanted to slide it down, down-

He suddenly realized that his touch may have been unwelcome, and went to pull away, but he was stopped by Cecil's hand on his wrist. More specifically, Cecil's long, elegant fingers, wrapping around his wrist and holding him in place, holding his hand there, and still looking at him with a rapidly flushing face.

Slowly, so slowly- and Carlos wasn't sure if this was the alcohol, or the way his skin was tinging just from the contact- his thumb began to rub small circles on Cecil's cheek, near his cheekbone. He wanted- he wasn't sure what he wanted, but Cecil's sharp intake of breath filled him with a fervent hope that Cecil wanted it too.

Cecil leant into Carlos’ feather light touch, his effervescent mind unable to form any coherent thought, as he lavished in the gentle press of Carlos’ fingers on his cheek. He wrapped his hand tighter around Carlos’ wrist unconsciously as he felt his heart beat even harder than it had been before, like a bird trying to escape a gilded cage, and he fought against the urge he had to- well, he wasn't sure, exactly, what the urge was, but he knew that it was strong, it was compulsory, and it was both absolutely wonderful and totally terrifying all at once.

Carlos was leaning towards him now, his face drawing closer to his by the second, and Cecil felt his pulse speed up even more, if that were possible, as he felt Carlos’ breath waft against the skin of his face. He was so close to the other man now, close enough that he could see the flecks of gold in Carlos’ eyes, and the faint sprinkling of freckles across his forehead.

It was like the world was moving in slow motion, like they were moving in molasses. Carlos could see every exhale Cecil gave, could smell the wine on his breath- he actually thought that maybe he could get drunk off of it, and maybe he was drunk, maybe he was drunk off of Cecil. Because he could feel the other man thrumming through his bloodstream just as much as the alcohol, filling his senses, making him lightheaded with want.

"Cecil," he murmured, because the moment was too frightening without words, like balancing on the cusp of something, and because the name was comforting. "Cecil, Cecil, oh, Cecil."

He had a second of sudden clarity- this was wrong, so very wrong. Cecil was a man, and kissing another man was surely against God's will, if not only society's. Wanting to do the things that he wanted were wrong. And having these urges, just a door away from where his father was no doubt talking him up to the ladies of the court, was absolutely wrong.

But then his lips pressed against Cecil's, and nothing else mattered at all.

Kissing Cecil was like heat and ice, fire and cold burning their way down his spine. It was too much and not enough, and he never wanted to stop. He found that he could, in fact, taste the wine on Cecil's lips, and he could also taste mint and something that was uniquely Cecil. Dimly, he thought about sweeping his tongue in, tasting more, but this press of lips was so sweet he couldn't bring himself to end it.

Cecil’s mother had always told him that kissing a woman was an easy thing to do, and did not, by any means, have to mean a thing just so long as the action was in place, and a common goal was established behind it.

But here, as Carlos pressed his lips against Cecil's, against the wood of the door separating the two of them from the rest of reputable society, Cecil found that, perhaps, kissing a man was something else entirely. The action itself was simple enough, the meeting of two pairs of lips together. But the emotions that surged through Cecil's inebriated body and fluttering heart were not within any realm of the word "simple." They were red hot, like a brand, as they coursed through his bloodstream, sending sparks of what he could only describe as passion from the confines of his skin into the air around him, and he was almost positive Carlos could feel it, too, for after a moment he pulled back, his brown eyes half-lidded and filled with a lust that Cecil mirrored in every way, shape, and form.

"Carlos,” he breathed, and he found himself musing that if he had to be lost forever within the confines of these unfamiliar walls and hallways, he would much rather take refuge in the comfort of Carlos’ name. "Carlos, that--"

He was cut off, rather abruptly, but Carlos recoiling away from him, snatching his hand back from Cecil's face as though Cecil had tried to bite him, and Cecil's body ached with the loss of contact.

Carlos’ heart was pounding wildly in his chest. Cecil was looking at him, eyes wide and intense and-

And what had he _done_?

He tore his hands away from Cecil- when had one gotten on the back of his neck?- like the other man had suddenly turned red-hot, and he backed away, against the wall perpendicular to the door, until his back bumped the sill of a window. "Cecil, I-" He cleared his throat. "I'm sorry. I am so very sorry. Please, just- forget we ever spoke."

Cecil looked even more broken at that, and couldn't he see Carlos was trying to fix this? "Carlos, I don't-"

"Cecil, please. Just…leave me."

"Carlos, I kissed you back- you didn't force anything on me."

And Carlos pressed a hand to his forehead, trying to quell the burning desire that had flared up at the touch of Cecil's lips, at the feeling of Cecil's fingers on his skin. "You don't understand," and Cecil didn't- probably a lower-class merchant's son, he couldn't- he didn't understand the depravity that Carlos ached for with him, didn't understand _why_ Carlos had been such a fool and given in to his base desires like an animal.

Cecil reached out a hand towards the other man hesitantly. "Carlos, please," he pleaded, quietly, as he felt his body protest more and more profoundly at the lack of Carlos’ skin against his. "What is it that I do not understand?"

Carlos shook his head. "Cecil," he said, a hint of desperation at the cusp of that honeyed voice. "Leave me. This...what happened...was a mistake, a lapse in my better judgment. I apologize, but I really must be going."

He pushed himself away from the window, and went to move past Cecil towards the door from which Cecil had come, and Cecil felt his heart seize with panic. He lashed out and grabbed the sleeve of Carlos’ coat - the fabric was soft and almost velveteen to the touch, and it made Cecil wonder, for just a moment, who, exactly, this man was that he had just shared such an intimate and absolutely wonderful moment with - a viscount's valet, perhaps? Or the son of baron? - but it was gone in an instant as his fingers curled into the fabric.

"Carlos, please, no!" He said. "Don't go! What happened?"

Carlos stopped as if he had been struck by lightning when Cecil grabbed his sleeve, though he could have tugged out of the other man's grip at any moment. "Cecil, this isn't-"

He'd heard stories, of course, from his friends, if he could call them that. Dukes and Earls and Marquis, around his age, who had joked and ribbed each other about their conquests. Sleep with the women, and leave them the next day. A higher conquest for those women who rarely opened their legs. But always the same- derisive laughter, especially when their partners wept and claimed love.

Carlos didn't think he could stand doing that to someone like Cecil. Having an affair would be one thing, but to dismiss him afterwards, as if he were nothing more than common trash--! He had only met him, and he couldn't bear it.

"Nothing happened, it's just- I am protecting you from myself, Cecil. You don't know what I would do with you. How I would have you. Just…find some sweet girl to spend the night with, won't you?"

 _A king has to make difficult choices_ , he heard his father saying in his head, yet he couldn't bear to tug his sleeve away.

Cecil laughed, mirthlessly. "But what if I would much rather spend this evening with you?" He countered. "I have been in that ballroom for hours now, and have not encountered a single interesting person, until I happened to run into you in his hallway. Please, stay, and help me to understand what I have done wrong. Have I offended you in any way?"

Carlos shook his head. "Please, Cecil," he said, closing those beautiful eyes tightly as he held up his hands. "This...this is wrong. This is going against everything I know to be right, and I..." He shuddered. "I can't. I'm sorry."

Cecil's hold on the other man's sleeve tightened. He desperately wanted Carlos to open his eyes again, to have their beautiful brown and gold depths rove over him again. He longed for Carlos’ touch, for his voice, for his body to be pressed against Cecil's in the best possible way. He wanted, very badly, for Carlos to kiss him again.

"If you must go," Cecil said finally, slowly. "Kiss me again."

Carlos’ eyes flew open, and he blinked at him, and Cecil felt his heart somersault again in his chest. He swallowed the lump forming at the back of his throat.

"Kiss me again, and if you're still certain you want to go, we will part ways, and never speak again,” he went on, feeling a little braver than before. "Please. Just...just once more."

Carlos would have laughed, if his breath was not frozen in his chest. "And to think," he muttered, "that I was most worried about the Countess this evening."

Oh, he wanted to kiss Cecil. Wanted to kiss him badly. He could still feel the phantom press of his lips, could still taste him. But kings- kings needed moral fiber. They needed to not give into their base urges and kiss some merchant's son breathless, no matter how badly they ached to, or no matter how his eyes had gleamed when Carlos had first pulled back.

And damn his hands, betraying him, sliding down until he could grip the hand still holding his sleeve. "If I scare you off," he said, "will you understand? Will you leave?"

"You couldn't scare me off," Cecil said, as plainly as if they'd known each other for years, instead of a night.

Fine. A challenge. Challenges, Carlos was used to. Challenges were familiar, and made this spinning in his chest much less terrifying. He'd…he'd show Cecil, why this was a bad idea. Just a hint of the depravity that went along with deviancy. Yes.

So this time, he curled one arm around Cecil's waist, pretending desperately that the other man didn't feel fantastic against him. He pressed close, pushing out thoughts of how warm Cecil was, how lovely the angles of his body were when met with his own. He cupped Cecil's face once again, tilting his head up, just a little, just enough so that Carlos could lean in, and feel the heat from his lips, and oh, this was a very bad idea. "Sure you won't run?"

Cecil could barely breathe as Carlos’ arm curled around him tighter, and, oh, how good it felt to be this close! Cecil had never experienced something like this, all heat and light and desperation rolled into a single wave.

Carlos’ face was so close to his, his lips just barely ghosting over his own. And while Cecil knew that a good king must be in control at all times, he could feel himself spiraling downwards in a roll unlike any he had ever experienced before, and he found that he did not care. And if this made him a bad future king, to be losing control to a mysterious baron, valet, whoever Carlos happened to be, so be it.

He could almost taste the bitter wine on Carlos’ breath as he whispered, "Why don't we find out?"

That was all it took. Carlos closed the gap, his mouth meeting Cecil's in feverish haste, his tongue in Cecil's mouth, roaming, tasting, and warring. Carlos moaned quietly as Cecil began to kiss him back with just as much fervent passion, and Cecil found it to be the most delicious thing in the world, that he could almost _taste_ that wonderful voice.

Carlos had thought that he would scare Cecil off with his obvious want, but his mind blanked out as soon as Cecil started to kiss him back. Well, it wasn't a blank, not really- it was heat, and need, and an overwhelming wave of _yes_.

He backed Cecil up to the windowsill, hands still on his waist, and lifted. Cecil went easily, the small of his back against the sill and long legs wrapping around Carlos’ waist. God, this was good, this was heaven and hell in one, and Carlos never wanted to stop.

He was going to die. There was no way, in heaven _or_ hell, that he would be able to survive such a rush.

Cecil could feel every nerve ending in his body ignite to life as Carlos lifted him onto the windowsill. As Cecil wrapped his legs around Carlos’ waist, the other man slotting perfectly between his legs, moaning as Carlos stopped kissing him to mouth at the skin of his neck, nipping and sucking, it registered vaguely in the back of Cecil's already foggy mind that he would probably have bruises there later, but he hardly cared. Not when it felt so good.

"Carlos," he moaned, "oh god, Carlos."

Carlos hummed against his neck, and Cecil felt the vibrations of it strike through his body like lightning, taking with it the sparks and heat straight to his core, and he felt his leggings, while flowing and loose, begin to grow tight as Carlos’ hands moved from his hip to slip down further, up under Cecil's powder blue tunic.

Oh, god, he never wanted this to end.

The sound of Carlos' name in that voice, being _moaned_ \- it was intoxicating. Cecil's skin was warm under his hands as he slid them up his tunic, and it was better, but it wasn't _enough_. He nibbled at the area just above Cecil's collarbone, and shivered at the groan he got in response. He wanted to see what noises he could get Cecil to make. He wanted to hear that voice broken and wrung-out with pleasure.

He continued to mouth at that spot, aware that he was going to leave a bruise, and a little possessive thrill ran through him at the thought. Cecil's hands tangled in his hair, keeping him close, and when he sucked at the spot below Cecil's ear he _pulled_ , most likely involuntarily. The small shock was nice, so nice, and he moaned open-mouthed against Cecil's skin. Another tug, and he bit down by accident, pulling a cry from the man underneath him.

"Shit," he panted, suddenly aware of where they were and how there was a profound ache settling between his legs, and how Cecil was reacting against him. "Cecil, anyone could…" He didn't want to move his hands from underneath Cecil's tunic, so he jerked his head toward the door.

Cecil, heaving for breath, his hands still tangled in Carlos’ soft black hair, the pressure in the front of his leggings almost unbearable with Carlos pressed up against him, followed Carlos’ line of vision. He couldn't help but smirk slightly at the profanity that slipped from Carlos’ kiss swollen lips, his alcohol-fuzzed mind even more soft and rounded at the edges with need, and want.

"Perhaps..." he said after a moment, still trying to find his breath. “Perhaps it would be best if we continued this elsewhere?"

Carlos’ hands were on his hips again, fingers pressing into the skin there, gently massaging at his hipbones beneath the waistband of his leggings.

"And where, pray tell," Carlos whispered as he dropped his head forward onto Cecil's shoulder, nipping at the junction where neck met shoulder, "do you suggest we go?"

Cecil swallowed, still riding the waves of heat and, oh, god, he was going to explode if Carlos didn't go back to what he was doing, with those roaming hands and kisses like brands. He didn't care where they went, just so long as this continued.

"I don't care,” he said finally. "Just, please, please don't stop."

He felt Carlos chuckle against the skin of his collarbone, and he found himself marveling at the gravelly quality it had taken on in the short moments of passion they had just shared. There was something about the way it reverberated through him, sinking into his flesh and bone like thorns, that made him shudder and go weak in the knees, and he found that this was something he had never noticed in a woman. Of all the suitable women his mother had tried to get him to call upon, none of their voices, their very presence, had elicited such a response from him before.

"We should stop," Carlos said, and couldn't resist nipping at Cecil's earlobe, enjoying the shiver it brought.

"Or," Cecil said, hands still tangled in Carlos' hair.

"Or?"

"Or we find somewhere quiet and-" Cecil shifted in his arms, and the movement brought their hips together. Carlos gasped at the sensation, at the friction. He knew they should stop, but he still lazily ground against Cecil. The sensation was just too exquisite.

Cecil bit his lip, back arching. "We find somewhere quiet," Carlos continued, rubbing small circles on Cecil's hipbones. "And…explore, if you will? Experiment?"

" _Yes_ ," Cecil gasped as Carlos’ hips ground against his again, the friction sweet, beautiful, wonderful, unbearable. "Yes, yes, please..."

He knew he should be embarrassed, for allowing himself to be reduced to a whimpering mess as he was. He was to be the king of Noctis one day, and as such, he was to be strong, and proud, and hold himself with the highest of respects and authorities. Yet, here he was, practically begging, at the mercy of a strange man he knew nothing of, allowing said man as much control as he wanted, just so long as he continued.

"Well, then," Carlos said as he pulled his hands away from Cecil's abdomen. "I suggest we find such a place, quickly."

Cecil nodded, swallowing thickly, and Carlos helped him back to his feet.

Getting through the castle was more difficult and frustrating than Carlos could remember in a castle before- perhaps this time because he was impossibly aroused, and from the flushing in Cecil's cheeks he knew he was similarly affected, and it was hard to go find a place when all he wanted was to drop to his knees right then and there and mouth at--

 _What was he doing_? He was a future king. Kings don't kneel. It was bad enough that he had allowed this civilian to demand another kiss, to pull him back into these wicked desires, but if he was giving in, he wouldn't…do that. Oh, but he wanted to. Badly.

The first few doors were futile, and Carlos was beginning to weigh the benefits of holding Cecil against the wall and grinding against him to completion, when he found the library. He was about to turn away when he noticed the cushions on the floor. That would work.

He tugged Cecil in, shutting the door behind them, and proceeded to drag a few of the cushions behind a shelf. He would have loved to have Cecil sprawled out on his bed at home, skin lovely against the champagne sheets, and didn't realize until Cecil made a soft noise that he'd been speaking aloud.

Cecil saw Carlos’ cheeks flush, the red spreading across this perfect complexion, and the other man opened his mouth to apologize. Cecil took this opportunity to react, to demand, for the first time, continuation from this man, this stranger, this Carlos. He was a future king, and he had given in to Carlos; now it was time for Carlos to give in to him.

Cecil reached out and tangled his fingers back into Carlos’ curls, plunging into the luscious locks as though they were the dark waves of the ocean on a moonless night, letting the soft strands fall through his fingers like water as he pressed his lips back to the other man's. It was sloppy, and wet, and uncoordinated, but Cecil hardly cared; he wanted Carlos as desperate for him as he was for Carlos. A king took control.

Carlos’ hands were back on his hips in an instant, and Cecil found himself being gently brought downwards, until he was sitting in Carlos’ lap atop one of the cushions on the floor. Carlos tugged at Cecil's tunic again.

"I believe," he said, nipping at Cecil's lower lip. "That this should come off."

Cecil moaned in agreement as Carlos’ tongue found its way back into his mouth, and he pawed at the buttons on Carlos’ jacket and waistcoat blindly as the other man hastily began to try and divest Cecil of his tunic. Cecil paused momentarily to raise his arms above his head as they pulled away for a few moments, before their mouths met once more, and Cecil went back to the buttons on Carlos’ waistcoat, the jacket successfully disposed of.

Carlos pulled away to peer at him through heavy-lidded eyes, and as he did so, his gaze flicked to the tattoo of the seal of Noctis - an eye with a crescent moon for the iris - over Cecil's heart. He felt the other man stiffen.

"Carlos?" He asked, brow furrowing. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing," Carlos said immediately, mind spinning rapidly. Noctis? _Noctis_? He suddenly remembered something his father had said to him, offhandedly- that the poor excuse for a kingdom called Noctis had a prince, about his age, and that "one day," his father had laughed, "you'll meet him in battle and put a sword through his heart, and end this."

Well, his heart was here, now. Under the eye of Noctis. Oh, lord. And Cecil- he must be of the Palmers, Carlos realized- he was sitting there, looking a little concerned, blue eyes still blown with lust. And Carlos…

He should probably kill him.

Instead, he kissed him. "Nothing at all. I just- ah- here." He carefully wiggled out from under Cecil, pressing him down instead, heart still pounding unsteadily. "I just- I've got this." Did Cecil know he was from Vail? Was he hiding some sort of dagger, somewhere? He glanced down, heat spreading at the sight of the bulge in Cecil's pants.

Something was wrong, despite Carlos’ insistence to the contrary. He could hear it in that caramel voice, see it in those blown eyes, feel it in his touch, taste it as he kissed him again. Carlos had been perfectly fine before he had seen the tattoo on Cecil's chest.

He opened his mouth to ask, once more, what was wrong, when Carlos dipped his head to suck at Cecil's jugular, and Cecil couldn't suppress the moan that escaped him, all other thoughts vanishing completely from his mind. He felt Carlos’ touch return to his torso, tentatively now, as though he were afraid that he would break him, despite the desperate way he bit and tongued at Cecil's neck, collar, sternum. Carlos’ hand dipped lower, lower, fingertips playing with the sprinkling of fine blond hairs on Cecil's stomach as they ghosted against his skin, and Cecil felt himself growing more and more aroused as Carlos’ fingers tugged at the waistband of his pants.

"Oh no." Cecil said as he pulled himself - albeit reluctantly - away to look at the dark skinned man whose lap had grown extremely pronounced. "Not until this--" he fumbled with the now open waistcoat and undershirt beneath. "Is gone."

Carlos looked surprised for a moment, before his eyes took on the lustful sheen from before, and he quickly shrugged the waistcoat from his shoulders, and pulled the undershirt up and over his head. Before Cecil was even given a chance to appreciate the well-defined features of the other man's toned muscles and smooth, brown skin, Carlos had grabbed him and pulled him flush against his chest, and his hand once again at Cecil's waistband, fingers dipping below to stroke at Cecil's pelvis.

The skin to skin contact was _delicious_.

But Carlos was still trying to calm his concerns. He could do this. He only had the future heir of the most hated kingdom in his land squirming beneath his touch, and he was currently cupping between his legs, watching him throw his head back and softly exhaling at the noises spilling from his mouth.

Oh, god.

As long as he didn't let Cecil see the mark of Vail – the outline of a mountain with a sword imposed over top - sitting in the middle of his back, he probably didn't have to worry about getting stabbed. Probably. And he really should have just stopped now, but as he worked his hand into Cecil's pants, feeling him hot and hard and ready, he remembered the way Cecil had looked at him in the hall and…

He just couldn't.

God, he knew he should stop. He knew that surely, this was not something that he, a future king, should be doing, having a tryst with another man in an empty library whilst attending the coronation of a neighboring kingdom. But, oh, oh, it felt _so good_ , and _so right_.

Cecil’s back arched and he threw his head back as Carlos’ hand finally brushed against the sensitive head, gently rubbing circles against the moist tip, and Cecil felt as though he might die, right then and there, if Carlos didn't keep touching him _like that_.

Carlos seemed to sense this, because he gently weaved his free hand into Cecil's blond hair, and his mouth hungrily met Cecil's once more. As he did so, his hand dipped even farther down, his palm cupping Cecil's aching length, and Cecil felt white-hot shards of passion flash from the contact throughout his entire body, and his eyes rolled back in his head as he gasped against Carlos’ mouth.

"I haven't scared you off yet?" Carlos whispered as he kissed behind Cecil's ear.

"Oh god..." Cecil mewled, instantly embarrassed. So much for taking control.

Carlos continued to shape Cecil's length in his hand, ignoring the tiny voice screaming at him to _run, you fool_. It's just- the noises Cecil was making were so very lovely, and when he gasped like that, when Carlos touched the very head of his cock, well, Carlos would challenge anyone to walk away from that.

"I want to hear you say my name," he said, almost not realizing _what_ he was saying. He rubbed against Cecil's leg as he undid the laces on the other man's pants, pulling his cock free, and- oh, well, that was lovely too. So hard and hot, just for him, and he couldn't resist smearing the pre come at the tip just to hear Cecil's mewl of pleasure. "Has anyone ever touched you like this?"

He ducked lower, pressed his lips to the Noctis symbol on his chest. He could feel Cecil's ragged breathing, and there was a sense of pride, knowing that he'd done that. "I want to taste you, Cecil. Want to feel you inside me, want to be inside you. I want- I want _you_."

Cecil's hands found his hair again, tugging, and he heard Carlos take in a sharp intake of breath, whether from pain or pleasure, or a combination of both, Cecil did not know, nor did he care. Not when Carlos’ tongue was tracing patterns across his chest like a paintbrush against canvas, and his hand was still stroking him.

" _Yes_ ," he sobbed as Carlos pumped once. "Yes, Carlos, yes!"

"Yes what?" Carlos asked as he licked at one of Cecil's nipples.

"W-whatever you want!" Cecil cried out as Carlos began to trail kisses down his abdomen. "J-just...please...!"

In an instant Carlos had him on his back, pressing him into the cushions on the floor, his hands on his wrists, pinning them on either side of his head as he bent over him and kissed him breathless. Cecil was sure he could feel his pulse begin to pound, both in his wrists and his neck as Carlos broke away from his swollen lips to once again trail feather light, teasing kisses down his jaw, neck, collarbone, ribcage, sinking lower.

"Please..." he whimpered. "God, Carlos, please!"

Carlos released his wrists, and in an instant Cecil's hands were back in his hair, once more tugging on them as Carlos’ tongue began to trace his pubis. He lifted his head as he felt Carlos tease even lower, until he could feel his warm breath ghosting over the head of his cock.

As he did so, he caught sight of something odd positioned in the dead center of Carlos’ back. A symbol of some sort, a tattoo, just like the one he had of the eye of Noctis over his heart. With a start, Cecil realized that he recognized that symbol. It was the symbol his mother had pinned to his archery targets, his sword posts, even the walls of the kitchens so that Cecil could go down and throw knives at it sometimes.

Carlos licked the head of Cecil's cock, lapping away the pre-come and giving small teasing flicks over the sensitive skin before taking it in his mouth and sucking. Cecil had been so expressive, so vocal earlier, he was anticipating something explosive, a tug at his hair, a moan of his name.

Instead, Cecil had gone still underneath him. No noise. Nothing. He looked up, only to see him with handfuls of cushions, eyes wild, holding stock-still, like he was a frightened bunny in the woods.

"Cecil?" Carlos said, voice heavy with lust. "What's wrong? Come now, don't tell me you've gotten second thoughts." He nuzzled Cecil's thigh, giving him what he hoped was an alluring smile. "What about ‘anything I want’? I think I want to hear you broken with climax…Cecil?"

Cecil couldn't breathe. He couldn't breathe, he couldn't react, he couldn't think. It was as if every ounce of alcohol he had had, every teasing kiss that had lit his entire being on fire was gone, like dust in the wind, like the last autumn leaf on the tree as winter's winds began to blow.

Carlos. Prince Carlos of Vail. His sworn enemy from birth, the man his mother had been preening him, molding him, preparing him to murder since the moment he could walk.

"You're going to kill him someday, Cecil," she had always said. "And it will be the greatest moment of your life, the most important thing you could ever do as king. Killing that bastard of Vail and claiming his kingdom as your own!"

He was supposed to kill him. And he suspected, that perhaps Carlos knew who he was, as well. His mind snapped back to how he had gone so still when he had first seen the eye of Noctis on his chest, and how he'd stumbled over his words for a second.

Carlos knew who he was. He knew who Carlos was. And he knew that they both knew that they were supposed to kill the other. They were not supposed to meet this way, in throes of passion and heat, but instead in battle, in blood, in war.

He felt a sharp stab at his heart, and for a moment, he wondered if this was it, if this was Carlos driving a dagger through him, fulfilling his life's purpose, if this had been his plan all along. Foolish Cecil! What a foolish king you would have been!

Carlos followed the line of Cecil's eyes to his back and suddenly his mind was on full alert. Cecil had seen, he had- Carlos knew he should have turned him over, touched him from behind, _shoved a knife into his back_ \- No! Cecil knew what he was- who he was- and he knew that they were supposed to kill each other, and Carlos drew away for the second time that night, quickly, because who knew what the other prince had planned, what-

He seemed small, almost. Cecil sitting there, still lovely but the fact that he looked terrified and worse, hurt, made Carlos want to fix it. Made him want to put his arms around him. But he didn't dare get within arm’s reach, because maybe this had been the plan all along.

He remembered being young, playing with his siblings in the garden. Pretend sword fighting, before his brother had been lost in battle- with Noctis, actually. They used to tumble around with their sticks, taking turns being the hero from Vail, or the scourge from Noctis, and no matter who was who, the game always ended with the villain getting poked in the chest with a stick and a "ha, you're dead!" He never let the Noctis villain live in his play. Not once.

He folded his hands on his lap, hyperaware of everything, keeping track on Cecil's every movement, in case- it hurt to think, but in case- "Was this…your plan?" he asked, and he was surprised when his voice was steady. "To seduce me, then kill me? Is this why you demanded another kiss when I was leaving?"

Cecil shook his head, trying to clear the racing thoughts as they assaulted his brain like hailstones, trying desperately to cling to one thing at a time. Carlos grabbed his shirt from where it lay next to them on the floor, and he lashed out, grasping Carlos’ arm.

"Carlos, wait!" he said. "Please, wait!"

Carlos yanked his arm from Cecil's grip, somewhat more violently than he intended, and he saw Cecil's blue eyes go wide for a moment as he retracted his hand back towards his own bare chest. Carlos stood to his feet.

"Why should I?" He demanded. "Why should I wait? So that you can fool me again, _Noctis_?"

The way he snarled Cecil's kingdom's name sent a shiver of protectiveness down Cecil's spine, and at the same time, another stab of pain in his chest. Had it truly only been moments ago that Carlos had been murmuring his name, so tenderly, so sweetly, dissecting each syllable, consonant, and vowel as if it were the sweetest sonnet? He had not, moments before, been kissing him, touching him?

"Please, I did not intend for this to happen!" Cecil pleaded. "I had no idea who you were! I-I thought that perhaps you were the son of a baron, or a diplomat, or a valet, perhaps! I had...I didn't know you were the _Prince of Vail_ until I saw...the seal on your back..."

He felt like crying.

Carlos stopped, shirt fisted in his hand, feeling horribly conflicted. The feelings in his chest swelled and ebbed, making it hard to think at all. "Don't," he said automatically, seeing the prince's glassy eyes. "Don't weep. Why…why do you weep? You aren't still interested…now that you know who I am."

Cecil shook his head wordlessly, and still the tears threatened to fall. Carlos knelt down, desperate to find a way to stop this, because Noctis or not, Cecil shouldn't be crying. He just shouldn't. "Cecil, I can't _trust_ you, nor can you trust me! I- oh, Cecil, don't-" He waved his hands uselessly, searching for a solution. "Is there…if I…is there a way to prove that- that wasn't a ploy? Could you- could you give me proof?"

Cecil fought against the tears that were continuing to well in his eyes, too overcome with emotion - betrayal, shame, lust, and still affection - to dare try and fight them as he look at Carlos. Carlos’ face was pensive, his eyes dubious as they flicked over Cecil's body, which had not so long ago been prone and laid out beneath him so blessedly, so wonderfully.

"Proof?" He dared, his voice barely above a whisper.

Carlos nodded. "Proof,” he repeated.

So it was proof the Prince of Vail wanted that this had not been some elaborate scheme. And while Cecil himself knew he should be seeking his own form of validation that this was still not a plot against _him_ , somehow he couldn't bear to think about it any long.

So it was proof he wanted. So be it.

Without thinking, Cecil, tears still streaming down his face, reached out and grabbed Carlos by the shoulders, yanking him forward as he firmly pressed his lips against his. Despite the swelling harbor of distrust and doubt that ebbed at the shores of his better judgment, Cecil waited, his lips still and planted, until he felt Carlos begin to slowly relax beneath his touch, responding back to him as their mouths parted, and war of tongues began anew. Carlos’ hands very tentatively came to rest on Cecil's back as Cecil positioned himself in Carlos’ lap once more, rocking his hips forward as Carlos gasped against his mouth.

"Is this proof enough for you?" he growled softly.

"Oh, I- ah, oh, that's-" Cecil seemed to be determined, and was currently grinding against Carlos’ lap so wonderfully, He was having trouble thinking, and he shouldn't trust an agent of Noctis, but…

He broke away from the kiss, instead opting to kiss the tears away from Cecil's face until he stopped crying and started making those lovely little noises instead. "Cecil," he breathed, mouthing his way down his neck. "Why do you trust me so? You're aware I was raised to kill you one day. Why do you trust me?" He bit at Cecil's neck, partially to prove a point- see how easy it would be- and partially to hear that soft moan and for the possessive flare at seeing his teeth marks in Cecil's skin.

What would his father say, to see him clutching at the Prince of Noctis like this, and not once thinking of snapping his neck? Of him holding him close, pushing harder, until his breath was coming out in soft pants. Of him whispering to the prince how beautiful he looked like this, gone on pleasure.

He ran his hands down Cecil's back, down his legs, all the way to his ankles and back up- a way to check for hidden weapons, yes, but also a way to discover all the little places Cecil liked to be touched, and a way to not-so-subtly smooth his hands over Cecil's rear. He shouldn't be doing this. He shouldn't.

He wanted to.

What would Cecil’s mother think, if she could see him now? Clinging to the Prince of Vail so tightly, as if he were the only tether in a storm? Surely she would be ashamed, she would be furious. She would likely kill Carlos herself, to prove a point, to drive home what a strong leader must do for the sake of a kingdom. She would be appalled, that here he is, allowing this prince, this enemy, to caress him so gently, hold him so tightly, allowing him to defile Cecil in whatever way he saw fit, allowing himself to be opened up and made vulnerable?

"I t-trust you," he said between gasps as Carlos’ hands slid up his thighs again, pressing down at his hipbones momentarily before sliding up Cecil's sides and back down again. "B-because you trust me."

"Oh, and who says I trust you?" Carlos asked as his thumbs played with Cecil's nipples again, making him moan in pleasure, back arching slightly. 

Cecil managed a half-smile at the other prince. "Because if you didn't," he stated, much more clearly than he had thought himself capable. "You would have left by now. Left me here, to lie upon these cushions here in this desolate library, shaking, to be expended by the all-consuming question of why."

There he went, again. Rambling. He swiveled his hips, and pressed himself closer to the other man.

Carlos couldn't stop even if he wanted to; the way Cecil's back bowed when he touched him in an exceptionally good way was the most beautiful thing he'd even seen, and he couldn’t stop doing it again and again and again. He rolled his thumbs over Cecil's nipples until the other man was bucking into his lap, making sounds that might have been in protest of oversensitivity.

"Cecil, I-" He raked his nails through Cecil's hair, inducing a full-body shiver. "I know that there's a very real chance that you might shove a dagger in my chest at any time. Yet, I stay here. It doesn't make any sense. And Cecil, I live in logic, in science, in strategy and planning. But even though it goes against all logic, I choose- you. This." He pressed his forehead to Cecil's shoulder, trying to quiet his mind. "This is new for me."

"Me as well," Cecil said, tilting his head and kissing him again. It was good, and sweet, and when Carlos brushed his hand over the front of Cecil's pants, Cecil accidentally bit his lip so hard it drew blood. He didn't mind.

He dipped his fingers in the back of Cecil's waistband, and just let them stay there, slightly below the top. "May I?"

Cecil nodded. "Yes!" He said. "Please." He tugged at the laces of Carlos’ own pants. "But, only if you remove yours as well."

"A pushy prince are we?" Carlos teased as he kissed Cecil's shoulder.

"A king always gets what he sets his mind to." Cecil said, his voice dipping into the dark corners of enigma.

He heard Carlos give a sound that was a cross between a moan and a growl in agreement, as he tugged the laces of Cecil's pants free and swiftly yanked the loose fabric from around Cecil's waist, exposing him once more. Cecil was half hard again, still slightly damp from their last lust-filled moment, and Carlos brushed it gently with his fingertips, making Cecil shiver and buck against his hand.

Cecil gripped at Carlos’ pants, his hands making more movements in air than against anything else, but after a few seconds, he managed to undo the laces, and he yanked at the fabric uselessly. Carlos then gathered Cecil to his chest, holding him there as he pushed himself onto his knees and gently laid Cecil back against the cushion, kneeling over him. One arm still wound around Cecil, pressing him close to him, Carlos used his other hand to pull his pants down to his knees, and slipped them over his ankles and off.

"Noctis," he said, softly, half wistfully, half amused. He leaned down and traced the outline of the seal with the tip of his tongue, tasting sweat and Cecil. From there he latched onto a nipple, since Cecil had responded so wonderfully, and he slowly licked and sucked at the nub in his mouth. The hypothesis was a success, and Cecil almost yowled, hands grabbing at Carlos' hair, holding him close.

Slowly, Carlos trailed his hand down between them, ignoring his own arousal, and for that matter, Cecil's too. God, but it was good to be pressed up against someone like this, especially Cecil, who thrummed in a way that seemed to match the frantic beating of his own heart.

He spared a thought to the ballroom, where likely people were being rejected on a dance card, someone had a bit too much to drink and was fighting, and the Countess Mirabella probably still searched. It all seemed so far away, with Cecil spread under him like his own private angel.

Carefully, he slid his hand between Cecil's legs, past his arousal, and back, dragging his fingertips over the most intimate of places. He'd only discovered the sensation there himself, in the dark of night, when curiosity had gotten the better of him. And now he watched for Cecil's reaction.

Cecil gasped softly as Carlos’ fingertips prodded so gently at his entrance, as yet another surge of heat and lust washed over him. His body felt as if it were a tightly wound bowstring, pulled taut and ready to snap with just the slightest hint of pressure. Carlos removed his hand for a moment to wet his fingers in his mouth, before he returned to Cecil's entrance, very gently caressing the skin around the area. Cecil's mouth fell open in a silent scream as his breaths became more and more erratic at the touches Carlos inflicted.

"C-Carlos!" He yelped as Carlos very gently pressed his way inside Cecil's hole, probing slowly. "Oh, oh god, Carlos! Carlos!"

"God, Cecil," Carlos panted, feeling the way Cecil clenched against his fingers. "Oh, oh, fuck, you're so tight, I can't- I'm going to hurt you." He pulled his hand away and Cecil looked absolutely betrayed, opening his mouth to complain. "Don't worry, I'll tend to you."

He motioned for Cecil to turn over, and when Cecil just looked confused, prompted him with pressure on his lip. Cecil did, if not a little haltingly. "Carlos, can't you just-"

"Shh, I've got you." He took a firm hold on Cecil's hips, pulling him so that he was propped up on his knees. Carlos kissed down Cecil's spine, the dip at the bottom. He had read about this, in the filthiest novel ever left by a member of the help, and if Cecil reacted in any way like the man in the story had, Carlos would be well pleased. Carefully, as the gauge Cecil's response, he leaned in and licked, just once.

Cecil's back arched, not unlike a cat's, as Carlos’ tongue swept across the dip at the base of his spine, a shiver running upwards into the roots of Cecil's hair. Cecil clutched at the cushion underneath him, balling the edges of it into his fists as Carlos began to press against his entrance once more, before slipping inside.

"Fuck." Cecil murmured as he pressed his forehead against the cushion, screwing his eyes closed tightly. He was not usually one for vulgarity, but oh, oh, god, it felt so _good_...

After a moment, Cecil felt pressure as Carlos slowly inserted a second finger into him, and as he did so, his middle finger brushed against the inside wall of Cecil, and Cecil felt himself go weak at the knees as his head spun, stars dancing before his eyes, and his hips bucked downwards involuntarily.

"There?" Carlos asked quietly as he dipped his head to kiss the inside of Cecil's thighs.

"Oh, god, y-yes!" Cecil cried. "Oh, p-please, don't stop!"

Carlos chuckled darkly as his fingers brushed that sweet spot inside of Cecil again, and Cecil cried out in pleasure as he did, his moans and gasps echoing off the empty walls of the library. Carlos stilled momentarily.

"Shh, Cecil," he scolded gently. "Not so loud."

"There is no one around to hear us," Cecil protested, panting for breath as he supported himself on his elbows, somewhat shakily. "P-please, don't stop!"

"Still, this isn't exactly the best position to be caught in," Carlos insisted, even as he pressed in a third finger, working Cecil open carefully. At first he went slow, but then Cecil was whining and rocking back, fucking himself on Carlos' fingers and oh, that was good. That was very good.

Eventually Carlos gave in and began rapidly sliding his fingers in and out, opening Cecil roughly, curling his fingers to get to that one spot that made Cecil mewl so wonderfully. His own cock was aching to the point of pain, but he could ignore it for the time being, preferring to watch Cecil's hands clench and unclench the fabric of the cushion. "Carlos."

"Hm?”

"Stop being a- _ah_ \- damn tease."

Carlos slowly pulled his fingers out, trailing them feather-light across Cecil's length as he did so. "What would you have me do instead?"

"A- _ah_ -anything." Cecil whimpered. "Just...please, stop teasing me. I can't..."

"Can't what?" Carlos drawled as he curled his fingers inside of the other man, causing Cecil to gasp once more. Oh, god above, Carlos _was_ trying to kill him. Slowly, just like this!

"I can't take it!" Cecil said finally. "Please!"

Carlos slowly removed his fingers from Cecil, and he heard Cecil whimper at the loss of contact. He leant back over Cecil's back, stretching himself along him so that his own erection brushed the curve of Cecil's ass. Cecil shivered with anticipation - of what, he wasn't exactly sure, if he was being honest - as Carlos whispered huskily in his ear,

"Turn back over."

Cecil obliged, flipping himself back over onto his back, spreading his legs wide as Carlos knelt between them, spitting into his hand as he slicked himself up. He took Cecil's legs and gently bent them, palming Cecil's kneecaps soothingly.

"Tell me if anything hurts, and I'll stop,” he promised, as his brown eyes made contact with Cecil's. "Okay?"

Cecil nodded, and reached out his hands, groping for Carlos’ shoulders, chest, face, hair, anything he could grip and pull towards him. Carlos, after making sure he was properly prepared, lined himself up with Cecil's entrance, and pressed the head of his cock against it, very, very slowly pushing inside.

Cecil's mouth fell open in a silent cry, and Carlos paused, waited for some sort of signal that it was too much, that Cecil was no longer comfortable. But Cecil only shuddered and his nails dug into Carlos’ shoulders a little harder. "Don't…stop."

And who was Carlos to resist such a request? He continued to push in, watching Cecil's face, but it was hard when he just wanted to throw Cecil's legs on his shoulders and fuck him into the cushion relentlessly. "Oh my god above, _Cecil_ ," he gasped, fully inside him now. "You're so tight, ah, fuck, so good."

It took a truly impressive effort to not start thrusting, to throw Cecil down and claim him, the way kings claimed what they wanted- but kings also had honor, and respect, and if that meant Carlos had to brace himself over Cecil on shaky limbs while Cecil adjusted, so be it.

Eventually Cecil squirmed. "Carlos, I- could you- move, please?"

Carlos almost laughed with relief. "Gladly," he said, and slid out, then back in, and Cecil gave a low moan that was too sweet to be human.

A king was composed. At all times. He never allowed anyone to see him falter, to see him weakened by any ailment that befell him. A king was always, always in control.

But Cecil was not a king. Not yet. Not with Carlos thrusting in and out of him, slowly at first, but then gaining more speed as his confidence was boosted, no doubt by the sounds he was drawing out from the Noctic prince below him. Cecil moaned, his voice gaining several octaves as a sweet, indescribable pressure began to build within him as Carlos’ cock brushed the sweet spot inside as he moved, in and out, in and out, steadily. The Vailian prince began to moan throatily, and he gasped as he threw his head back, exposing the column of his throat, his black hair clinging to his forehead as sweat beaded on his brown skin.

"Oh, god, _Cecil_ ," he groaned as he arched up again so that his face was parallel to Cecil's. He kissed him then, as he continued to thrust, grinding, and a hand stole into Cecil's blond hair. " _Cecil_."

God, what would his father think of him now? In a strange way, he might get points for having the Prince of Noctis sprawled underneath him, coming undone, vulnerable and open and ready for attack. But what wasn't apparent was that Carlos was just as vulnerable, just as exposed as Cecil was right now. He clutched Cecil's hair like a lifeline, thrusts getting harder and more erratic, almost out of his control.

Cecil would gasp out "harder" or "faster" or "deeper" and Carlos would comply, setting a new pace. But his favorite was when Cecil said his name, and it contained multitudes. He angled his hips and Cecil _wailed_ ; Carlos quickly shushed him but continued to hit that spot because if Cecil's moaning and bucking back were any indication, he'd found a very nice spot.

"Good," he hissed, kissing the corner of Cecil's mouth. "So good. So- Oh, _Cecil_."

Cecil raked his blunt nails down Carlos’ back as Carlos bent to kiss his jaw, his hands still in Cecil's hair. He heard the man above him give a faint hiss as he did so, his hips bucking forward roughly, and Cecil threw his head back, yelping again, loudly.

"More," he pleaded. " _Carlos_ , I need...more, oh- _oh_ god, yes! Please, Carlos, more!"

One of Carlos’ hands left Cecil's scalp and trailed down between their two bodies, and he took Cecil's achingly hard length in his hand.

"Like this?" He asked as he began to pump up and down along Cecil's length, matching it to that of the thrusts of his hips.

Cecil could barely stand it. He felt himself falling apart, piece by piece, as though a string to the tapestry that made up his entire being had been plucked, and the rest was unraveling around him.

"Yes!" He cried out, and Carlos shushed him gently. "Yes-ah, _ah_ , yes!"

The pressure was building even faster now and Cecil felt as though he were at the edge of a cliff, but at a distance, looking over the edge at the ravine below. As Carlos continued to thrust inside of him and pump his cock in his hand, Cecil felt himself growing closer and closer to the edge of the cliff, until he felt his toes curl, as though anticipating the jump.

A white, hot explosion hit him across his entire body, and he felt his breath leave him in a huff, his mind go blissfully blank for one moment as he came all over Carlos’ hand and their stomachs.

Cecil tightened so sweetly around him as he came, it brought Carlos dangerously close to that edge. His thrusts lost rhythm, trying desperately to reach his peak before it became too much for Cecil, who was still riding out the aftershocks.

The prince had just started to twitch with overstimulation when Cecil leaned up and kissed him and that was all it took really, in combination. Carlos gasped out " _Cecil_!" and then he was coming, inside of Cecil, so hard he had to nearly double over.

Afterward Cecil looked like he didn't quite know where he was, so Carlos pulled him close with weary arms, onto his side, still buried inside him. There was a mess, but that could wait. "Noctis," Carlos said lazily, mouthing aimlessly at Cecil's shoulder. It wasn't apprehensive, or a complaint, it was just something that…was.

Cecil heaved for breath as he lay still pressed against Carlos’ body, trying to gather his mind and thoughts as he lavished in the wash of his orgasm, lying on the cushion in the aisle of a library. After a few moments, Carlos very slowly pulled himself out of Cecil, and nuzzled at the back of his neck, pressing tiny kisses there. Neither of them said a word for several minutes as they laid there together, flushed skin against flushed skin, catching their breaths, until Carlos pushed himself up onto his elbow, and peered at the books that lined the bookcases around them.

He threw his head back and laughed after only a few moments of investigation, and Cecil blinked blearily, the soft, fuzzy feeling of the alcohol returning full force in the wake of orgasm.

"What is it?" He asked.

"Look." Carlos nodded at the books around them, and Cecil squinted at the spines of the tomes for a moment. "Look at the genre."

As it dawned on Cecil just what, exactly, he was looking at, he turned his attention back to the man beside him, smiling at him as Carlos carded a hand tenderly through his hair. It felt nice, against his tingly scalp.

"A pillow of poetry," Carlos repeated, nuzzling into Cecil's hair. "Making love under the words of the great romantics. I like to think they'd approve." And as soon as he said it, Carlos was struck by a sudden nervousness- what if Cecil didn't think the same way as he did, that it was making love, what if Cecil thought it was just- just fornicating?

Still, Cecil made no motion to move, so Carlos relaxed. Cecil was lovely like this, curled up against him, warm and post coital and malleable. Carlos wanted to go to sleep like this. He wanted to find a blanket and pull it up over them, hold Cecil and be held by him as they slowly drifted off, together.

But the chiming of the clock snapped him out of his reverie. "Oh, dear, the time," he muttered, sitting up. "We're expected back, aren't we?"

Cecil sat up next to him, his blond hair disheveled, his face still flushed.

"That is, if anyone has even noticed we are missing,” he said. "Though, considering our standings within the congregation, I would suspect that yes, we should be making our way back." He pressed a kiss to Carlos’ chin. "Though I would much rather stay here," he muttered quietly.

Carlos’ mouth caught his, nipping at his kiss-swollen lips lightly. "As would I," he said softly. "But it is best we be getting back." He went to reach for his pants.

Cecil felt a lump forming in the back of his throat. Carlos had called it making love, just as Cecil had hoped he would...but now, with the ballroom awaiting them, with their respective identities, Cecil could not help but feel a cold terror creeping up inside him.

"I suppose..." he whispered as he fidgeted with the hem of his tunic in his lap after Carlos handed it to him. "That...we must go back to...hating one another now?"

Carlos just pulled on his shirt, looking over at Cecil with a fond smile. "Pull up your collar- here." He fixed it, popping it up higher than it had been. "You've got bruises." He sat back, just admiring the view for a moment. "You look amazing like this, do you know? Your hair is tousled, your lips are red from kissing, you look easy and relaxed and- it's a good look on you, Cecil."

They got to their feet and continued to hold on to each other, not quite ready to separate just yet. "I don't- Cecil," Carlos sighed. "I think I could bear to pretend I hated you- I don't think it would be easy, but I could bear it. However, we're- we're going to be expected to go into battle someday, and for one of us to kill the other. I don't want to kill you, and unless I've grossly misread our interaction, you don't want to kill me either, do you?"

Cecil's blue eyes widened. "No!" he said. "Never, Carlos!"

Carlos’ smile was sympathetic, borderline sad. He reached out a hand and cupped Cecil's cheek. "I thought not,” he said softly. "But we must face the facts here. We are both princes, future kings. We are expected to settle down, marry, and produce children."

Cecil swallowed, and nodded. He understood. He understood perfectly, but he did not want to think about a future without Carlos in it. He did not want to think of any world outside of the library, and the past hour, which had proven to be the most wonderful of his life.

Carlos’ hand dropped from his face, and took his hand instead.

"However, as I said, we are both princes, and as such, we will both one day be kings."

"Of course." Cecil agreed, frowning slightly, suddenly confused. "That is usually the expected lineage, Carlos."

Carlos’ eyes sparkled with something akin to mischief as he squeezed Cecil's hand.

"And we both know that one thing a king must be is a good diplomat, forge his own allies when none can be found."

He watched as Cecil's eyes widened, as his lips parted slightly in surprise. "Carlos, are you suggesting-"

"Yes, I am," he said, emboldened. His father had always told him that kings must take charge, be leaders, follow their own reasoning. And now Carlos was, standing here holding the hand of the man he'd been expected to kill on the battlefield. "Think about it, Cecil. We're neighboring kingdoms. We've got the water ports-"

"And we have the land commerce centers," Cecil breathed, looking at him in an entirely new light.

"And- oh, father would have my skin if he knew I was telling you this- our peasants are growing restless. All of our country is. They hate the blood being spilled for such a petty war. They're tired of sending their sons and brothers off to die, and if this feud doesn't end, more will. Cecil- we could do this."

Cecil considered Carlos’ offer for a moment, weighing the options, the pros, the cons. What Carlos said was true; even within Noctis, those of the lower and upper classes alike were beginning to question the Palmers, and their ability to lead, and do what was best. They, too, were tired of sending their countrymen off to war, only to have a select few of them return. Cecil knew this, and he understood.

And to become allies with Vail meant that regular meetings, visits would have to be paid to ensure that peace prevailed between the nations that had, for so long, been enemies. And as the prince of the kingdom, it would be his - and Carlos’ - duty to see to it that an example was set forth for the people.

And, if there were diplomatic visits involved, and Carlos was to be the ambassador for Vail, well...Cecil believed he could live with that.

Yes. Yes, they could do this.

He squeezed Carlos’ hand, and, abandoning all resolve, threw himself at the other man, hugging him around the neck.

"And this means," he said as he nuzzled at Carlos’ neck. "That I would get to see you again? Perhaps do this again, on a proper bed next time?"

"Cecil," he hummed, hands sliding up Cecil's back, feeling the dip between his shoulder blades. Not so much with intent this time, as much as just to feel. To feel, because maybe- possibly- he wouldn't have to fret about never feeling Cecil against him again, because maybe he could.

"Diplomatic visits," he said, kissing Cecil's temple. "Long ones. You might have to stay overnight, or I might have to stay the night on your lands. Days, maybe, if we can't get the details ironed out. And I think frequently, as well- with such prickly relations, we're going to need to meet often, aren't we?"

He allowed his arms to loop around Cecil, to pull him close, the smell of sex still on his skin. "Oh, and what I wouldn't give to have you on my bed. It's large, so you can thrash about all you wish. And you would look so lovely against the champagne color of the sheets."

Cecil hummed in agreement, pressing his forehead against Carlos’ neck.

"My room is at the far west end of the castle,” he said. "A wing all to myself. There, we could be as loud as we wanted, and no one would ever hear us. And you," he kissed at Carlos’ pulse. "Would look ravishing against the lilac of _my_ sheets."

Carlos’ hands rubbed at his shoulders, and he pulled away from the other man to smile at him. "Am I to believe, then, Prince Cecil of Noctis, that we are about to enter a treaty of peace?"

Cecil grinned. "I believe, Prince Carlos of Vail, that this is, indeed, my intent."

Carlos laughed, and released Cecil to grab his waistcoat from the floor, slipping it back on, his jacket following close behind, the red sash last.

"We must pitch the idea to our parents,” he said as he tied the silk cord tightly and Cecil smoothed down the fabric of his own tunic, slipping back into his loose leggings. "I believe they will be hardest to convince."

Cecil made a noise of agreement, fixing the leggings back where they were supposed to be. Now that Carlos knew this wasn't the only time he'd ever see them off, he mourned the loss of the view of Cecil's bare legs a little less.

"Can you imagine telling them the truth?" Carlos asked, laughing. "Oh, yes, I know you two are terrible enemies, but we slipped off in the middle of a coronation ball to have spectacular sex in a library, and now we think you two should stop fighting!"

Cecil chuckled, reaching up to fix Carlos' hair. "I think they'd be so stunned they might drop dead right then and there."

"Maybe we should try it, then. Might make peace a little easier." He caught Cecil's hand. "Cecil, your mother. Will she…be upset, that we've come to this consensus? Will you be in any danger for having agreed to it? I want peace; but I don't want it to come at the cost of your safety."

Cecil blinked, and shook his head. "Mother is strict, and firm, and a brilliant strategist. But she, too, knows that the cost of war is becoming too great. Perhaps she will be easier to persuade than I previously believed." He stopped, and smoothed down a lock of Carlos’ hair with his free hand. "I believe she has always known me to be as I am, much more pacifistic than she, or my father before me. She is not afraid to slice through a man's heart if she must, but..." He paused, trailing off. "I do not believe she will see this as treasonous. Perhaps she will be pleased to see my taking charge for myself as the future king."

He swallowed, and straightened Carlos’ slightly wrinkled collar.

"What of your father?" he asked. "I have heard tales of his ruthlessness. Would he punish you? What of your safety?"

Carlos opened his mouth, closed it again. He had barely thought of his own safety; he had thought of Cecil's, of his kingdom's, and perhaps this is what it was like to truly be king. "Father wasn't always ruthless," he said, feeling a strange urge to defend him. "My brother- the eldest, before me, he would have made a wonderful king- we lost him, to the battles with Noctis. And that's when father became determined that we destroy you."

He sighed, nuzzled at Cecil's hand. "But overall, he is a man of reason, and of family, and I do not think that even he can deny the cost these wars have taken. I think that in the end he would rather cooperate than fall."

Taking a deep breath, he pulled away at last, attempting to look composed. "So, do we take the plunge?" he asked, extending a hand to Cecil.

Cecil smiled, and took Carlos’ extended hand, lacing their fingers together, if only until they were in danger of being seen.

"We shall,” he said.

Carlos smiled back at him, and kissed his forehead. "Cecil, this past hour...I want you to know..."

"Shh." Cecil shook his head, silencing the other prince. "I know."

He gently tugged at Carlos’ hand, indicating a need for departure. The two princes walked, hand in hand, back to the door of the library, where they slipped into the hallway outside, dropping their hands and opting to place them leisurely behind their backs as they walked, shoulder to shoulder, back towards the ballroom, where their futures - _future_ \- awaited them.

"Carlos." Cecil said after a moment of silence. Something was weighing heavy on his heart and mind, and he felt that it was a subject that needed to be breached sooner rather than later.

Carlos turned his head to look at him. "Hmm?"

"If we are to bring peace to our kingdoms..." Cecil started. "And we are to have peace, what is the possibility of our kingdoms becoming joined? Of Noctis and Vail becoming one?"

Carlos' breath stopped in his chest. Noctis and Vail…as one? "I suppose it would expand our lands, wouldn't it?"

"Exceedingly so."

"We'd have a better defense, better trade…"

"It would be hard pressed to find a rival."

For a second, Carlos just looked at Cecil, walking next to him, head held high, hands folded behind his back. He seemed an entirely different person than the one Carlos had seen not a half hour earlier, mewling and shivering on the cushions. Now he was…regal. Even when they had first started talking, Carlos realized that Cecil had let his guard down. This was the king persona.

He had a vision of Cecil, crown on his head, draped in the wedding finery of kings.

"Joining in…some sort of…land-sharing treaty? Or as in…ah, marriage?"

Cecil swallowed, and thought very carefully about what he was to say for a few moments. As he did so, he tried to imagine Carlos, swaddled in the velvet robes of marriage, standing tall and proud, his brown skin radiant, his hair shining beneath the crown he was to inherit.

Finally, he spoke. "As we are two men, it would be...unorthodox for a marriage between the two of us,” he said, finally. "However, I am the sole heir to the throne of Noctis, having no siblings above or below me that could take the throne should I abdicate it. And so it is imperative that I produce an heir of my own." He swallowed. The idea of being with a woman, a strange woman, after what he had just experienced...he was sure that no other could compare to Carlos.

Carlos nodded. "The same is expected of me," he agreed. "My father has been trying to hint that I should take a wife sometime relatively soon for the better part of three years now."

"My mother has as well," Cecil said. "And because I am the only child, if I were to die, say in battle, at the hands of an enemy, or perhaps I should fall to the plague or another earthly ailment, Noctis would be left without an heir."

"I don't believe I understand," Carlos said.

"You have a sister, do you not?" Cecil asked.

Carlos nodded. "Yes. She is a few years older than I. But she has been married for close to five years now, with two children, a boy, and a girl."

"Ah!" Cecil said, and he turned his head to look at Carlos again, his blue eyes shining. "Well. I believe we may have a solution, then."

"Prince Cecil Palmer," Carlos said, amused. "Are you suggesting that I willingly hand down the throne to a nephew? That I leave my power? That I no longer have to worry about assassination at all times? That I would not be resigned to a life of sitting through meetings with generals?"

He stopped abruptly in the hall, not far from the door they'd originally kissed by, and pulled Cecil in by the waist. "I would _love_ to."

Cecil laughed, caught off-guard, and Carlos delighted in kissing the smile spreading across his face.

Then, he stopped.

"Cecil, ah- are you...proposing?"

Cecil blushed, deeply, his ears burning with embarrassment as he quickly averted his gaze to the floor. "Ah, well, no," he said. He snapped his attention back to Carlos. "I mean, that is to say, not _yet_. While I have no doubt in my mind that we will make excellent business partners, and, perhaps, ambassadors together, and while I know that the sex will be _fantastic_." Carlos grinned slyly at him, and he cleared his throat, trying to maintain his composure. "I would, for the moment, try to take things...slow? While I know your name, and what you look like naked, gone with pleasure, and what parts of your body is most sensitive, I would still like to take a while to get to know _you_."

He saw Carlos nodded, slowly, and for a moment, Cecil was afraid he had offended him, or, worse, disappointed him. But after a moment, Carlos’ hold on him tightened, and he pressed his forehead against the Noctic prince's.

"Wise," he consented. "However, when the time comes, would we even be able to get married? As two men?"

Cecil shrugged, lamely. "I do not know what it is like in Vail," he said, trying not to sound coy, or mocking, or pompous. "But in Noctis, there is not much that surprises us anymore. Most recently we have taken in a new refugee by the name of Hiram of the McDaniels clan. He is, quite literally, a five headed dragon. And while I expected the kingdom to behave less than hospitably, given that he is, literally, a five headed dragon, I was surprised to find that it is not as big a deal as I had previously perceived."

Carlos nodded. "I admit, I wasn't sure exactly what I would have said to an immediate proposal. We've spent such little time together, and so much of that was trying to figure out if we had plans to kill each other. I suppose it worked fine for Romeo and Juliet, but I'd like to end somewhere significantly different from them."

He brought Cecil's hand to his mouth and kissed the back of it, where a ring would have gone. "My kingdom may be slightly less varied- dragons are still classified as monsters- but I daresay that once the villagers no longer have to fear dying in a needless war, they will be so elated that they won't care much about who I have to marry to make it happen."

Cecil's face fell. "Oh. Yes, of course."

Carlos tried to get a better look, but the other prince turned away. "Cecil, what's wrong?"

"Is that what this is, Carlos? Are you only with me for peace?" Cecil felt his chest tighten, constricting as it had back in the library, when Carlos had recoiled away from him, demanding to know if he was plotting to kill him, as he awaited Carlos’ answer. Was he sure that this was an answer he wanted?

He did not have to wait long. Carlos very gently reached out and tipped Cecil's chin towards him, a soft expression gracing his handsome and perfect face.

"No," he said, and his voice held a regal, definitive edge to it. A king's command. "No. Cecil, I liked you even before I even knew you were from Noctis, let alone its prince! I wanted you before I saw that tattoo on your chest, just as I wanted you after. That has not changed. Peace between our kingdoms is but a- for lack of a better term- perk."

Cecil felt himself relax, the tension leaving his shoulders. "And I felt the same," he said. "About you. Before I knew who you are."

Carlos nodded. "You see?" He smiled. "I want to be with you _for you_ , Cecil. I promise I am nothing but altruistic in my advances." He stepped closer. "And, if you will allow me, I will prove that to you in every way that I know how, time and time again, if I must."

Cecil felt his heart once again flip in his chest, the warm, fuzzy feeling returning. This time, it was not from the wine.

"I trust you,” he said, pausing to lace his fingers with Carlos’ for a brief moment. "Because you trust me to trust you."

Carlos grinned, and again, Cecil felt himself musing that, perhaps, this is what falling in love instantly felt like. All at once, like a fall into the ocean.

They were almost back at the door now, which would take them into the ballroom. Beyond it, they could hear the music and the voices of the congregation chattering, like birds with squirrels in a thorn bush and they stopped to gather their composure, to make sure any bruises were covered, any hair smoothed back into place.

"Carlos?" Cecil asked. "There is one more thing I must know. About joining our kingdoms."

"What is that?"

"If Noctis and Vail are to be joined...what would it then be known as?"

"That," Carlos mused, "is tricky. We can't place too much importance on one or the other, or one kingdom will get upset. We could create something entirely new, but the older generations would not identify. Noctis and Vail… Noctis Vail? Push them together?"

Cecil shook his head. "We cannot just push the two parts together clumsily. It makes for a still divided country. It need to be familiar, but new. A signal of a new start, with…" He squeezed Carlos' hand. "New leadership."

"Well, if we go back to the roots, Noctis is old-fashioned, is it not? It means 'Night', correct?"

"And if we changed Vail…a- a vale. A valley. Simple and unobtrusive, yet still lingering of the old ways."

"Night Vale, then?"

"Night Vale," Cecil said, letting go of Carlos' hand as the other man went to push open the door. "I like that."

**Author's Note:**

> Based off an rp with doodlegirll, and it turned into this!
> 
> There are at least two more stories coming in this 'verse. We've got so much backstory for it, you have no idea.
> 
> I have a wtnv/fic blog [here](http://floating-cats.tumblr.com) and doodlegirll's blog is [here](http://doodlegirll-writes.tumblr.com)! So if you want to yell with us about wtnv or fics or you want to see peeks into the rest of this 'verse, stop on by.


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